It was past ten, and Rosiline still couldn't sleep.
Collin's voice kept echoing in her head — taunting, terrifying — dragging her back into the memories she wished she'd buried forever.
The fear that had been clawing at her heart for days had finally taken shape, and no matter how many times she tried to call him, the line stayed dead.
Standing alone in the open lawn, she clutched her chest, feeling her pulse race beneath her palm. The night air was cool, but her skin burned with unease.
Then a voice broke the silence.
"Why aren't you asleep, Mom?"
Rosiline froze. Slowly, she turned her head — and there stood Kathrine.
The girl had that same calm, composed demeanor she always carried, but her very presence made Rosiline's breath hitch. It wasn't fear exactly — more a cold discomfort, the kind that twisted in her gut every time she looked at her.
"I should ask you the same, Kathrine," Rosiline said, her tone clipped, controlled. "Why aren't you in bed?"
